


Pride and Joy

by NerdyMind



Series: Five Times Dean Winchester Gets what He Wants and One Time He Doesn't [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Father Figures, Gen, Hunters, Hurt/Comfort, The Family Business, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 23:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyMind/pseuds/NerdyMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean Winchester finally feels like a Hunter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pride and Joy

February 12, 1995 Dean Winchester learned how to stitch up an arm. Bobby had taken him on a hunt as backup while John was laid up with a broken leg back at the house. Sammy had waved them off promising to take care of John while they were gone.

On a small farm in Northern Iowa, the duo of hunters had tracked a nasty ghost back to a side shed when Dean was unceremoniously whipped against the wall of sharp rusted tools. Narrowly avoiding shears, rake tines and the nasty edge of a circular saw, Dean’s shoulder clipped the pointed tip of a shovel, tearing through his favorite jacket, not so favorite button up and ripping a lamentable hole in the ACDC t-shirt he’d just washed.

“Fuck!” he yelled, grasping his throbbing arm as Bobby quickly vanished the ghost with a zippo and a grin.

“C’mere son, let’s take a look at ya.” the older man grabbed Dean’s good arm, leading him out to the van and sunlight. “Take that off and sit here.” Bobby ordered, pointing to a clean spot on the bumper. "Too damn close," Bobby mumbled under his breath, rooting through an old tackle box for tape and pulling the flask from his pocket. He poured a few streams of burning liquid down Dean’s exposed shoulder drawing a deep hiss from the boy.

“Give me that,” Dean said, swiping the flask from Bobby. “Painkiller” he said smirking and knocked back two quick shots, igniting his throat. Coughing and flushed, Dean handed the flask back to Bobby who was now shaking with laughter. "Idjit."

“You did good in there, boy,” the old hunter beamed down at him. “Now pay attention, you’ve got years ahead with worse cuts than you can imagine,” he said solemnly. Dean watched as Bobby used the sewing kit to fix up his wound. “Fire to sterilize and cauterize,” he said holding up his lighter. “Alcohol as antiseptic, and to dull the pain.”

Dean watched, soaking up every word. Sure Dad had taught him things over the years. But Bobby’s words and hands were gentle as he spoke. And his eyes. His smile. They were beaming at him with something unfamiliar. _Pride_. Dean decided. And he decided that was the best feeling in the world.


End file.
